As soon as the front door closed, I went into our bedroom.
I knelt beside the bed and reached underneath.
My fingers touched something large.
I carefully pulled it into the open.
It was Ashton’s black travel suitcase.
The same one he used to take on business trips before my accident.
Its zipper was partly open.
Inside were neatly folded clothes, toiletries, and a thick envelope.
My name was written across the front.
I opened it.
Several sheets of paper slipped into my hands.
I carried them into the living room, where sunlight made the writing easier to distinguish.
Using my phone’s magnification feature, I enlarged the text until I could read the heading.
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.
I stared at the words.
Divorce papers.
Our names appeared beneath the heading, along with our address and wedding information.
Nothing had been signed.
But the documents were real.
